Naihabi Ridge

Chapter Nineteen - Luck

Avi

If ever I wanted an ally, it was now. I felt as if everything would fail. I wanted someone to tell me it would work because the only thing I was hearing was the perilous doubt running through every nerve in my body. Every thought was against me, every movement away from my goal. Everything seemed to fall apart around me and yet I stood tall in my façade, chin up with a confident voice as I told my cabin-mates, my allies, that only death would have them if they didn't join me.
    
It was so bold. Too bold. Way too bold.
    
I clenched my jaw to keep from curling into a ball on the floor, a sobbing mess, and I braced myself for the worst as I looked at each of the stunned faces around me. Time was relentless, making each second a day of its own as I found the shock etched onto each of their features.
    
"If, uh... if I'm gonna die here anyway, then going with you doesn't sound too bad."
    
My gaze shot to the source of the voice: a younger refugee by the name Eilo. I had made a pact with him, but from what I remembered, he wasn't the first to recognize me. After Eilo, a few other voices agreed hesitantly, followed by murmurs from the group as people made their decision.
    
Nervously, I cleared my throat and continued, "Those who wish to escape—to defeat the Ridge the only way we can—come with me. Those who stay, the best of luck to you. Anyone who will join me, raise your hand."
    
There was a long silence and no movement and my mind flooded with unwanted thoughts and doubts. What if no one came? I would just have made an enormous fool of myself and they would never know me the same again. But if it worked, as many people who chose to leave would be saved. What if I could have said it better? Would more people agree if I'd made it sound more agreeable?
    
Finally, I saw a hand raise in the back. My breath started loosening as two more went up, followed by another two. After a moment, only a few hands were not raised.
    
Only a few people wouldn't go.
    
Only a few people would die.
    
I clenched my jaw, forgetting myself, and raised my own hand, my voice unwavering. "Then we set off an hour after curfew."

The pathway that was well lit before would now be almost pitch black were it not for the dim lanterns lit every hundred feet or so. We would have to avoid the lanterns at all costs.
    
From what I'd overheard of Master Romia's conversations, there was a vigil that made rounds every half hour until sunrise, but I didn't get to hear when he came about, so we would wait until we saw him, then run like rabid dogs. With luck, we could make it into the southern quarter by the half hour. Without luck, though, everything was over.

But I preferred to believe we had luck.
    
"Hey," I heard a hiss from the person who was currently watching for the vigil. "Here he comes."
    
I moved over to him and looked through the peephole we created with the crack in one of the walls. There was indeed someone coming down the dark pathway, but I wasn't sure whether it was the vigil or not. Frankly, I had never seen him—Master Romia was simply too good to be caught—so I couldn't vouch for his appearance, but as he got closer I was able to make out a thin frame with long, fit legs and one arm holding up a lamp while the other was held tentatively over his belt. It took me a second, but I saw the glint of a knife on his hip. He was probably a really fast runner, which was most likely how he got his job.
    
I watched him slowly cross the path, his head looking from side to side for movement. I had to wonder how good his sight was. His footsteps kept going after he passed us on the path and then they faded. I waited a second, the whole building dead silent, then I motioned the others to move their refugee butts before we were caught.
    
Oh, I had a really bad feeling in my gut.
    
I led the way through the bunkhouse door and behind the building, my cabin-mates filing out and gathering behind me. I gave myself an extra second to regain myself—or rather, my common sense, since I had lost the majority of it—then I motioned for the others to follow me and sprinted out from behind the bunkhouse and across the path.

The darkness seemed to swirl around in cool wisps across my cheeks and my sandaled feet, then I was behind another building on the other side of the path. The others moved slower than I had thought they would, which was worrying, then I kept going on the return trip. This would be a long journey, and not in the least bit a safe one.

I took one last look at the small group, then I turned in the direction of the next building and froze. There was someone there. Someones, I should say. Two figures were in the darkness, just barely illuminated by the last of some lamplight. They were almost completely hidden—almost completely shrouded by the darkness—but I caught sight of a hood from one and a sandal from another behind the corner of a building. Were there more that I couldn't see? What could anyone be doing out this much past curfew? Was there another group attempting escape we hadn't known about? I sucked in a breath. What if they weren't a different group? Had I been found out?

"What are we doing?" A voice whispered from behind me.

"What?" I spaced out a moment.

"Where are we going with this? Let's get moving."

"Oh, okay, let's... get moving, then."

I heard someone murmur something about me always being absentminded, then I signaled the group in the other direction and we were off. We would have to go around the two people and hope they weren't following us. If luck was with us, then they weren't and for everyone here, I hoped we had luck. A whole lot of it.

They were following us.

I paced in circles behind one of the buildings, my mind at its limit. How much stress could this one human take? Not this much! I almost went into hysterics, but that would have given our position away to the people who were following us.

"Avi,"

My mind was too crowded with too many things to process the situation. What would we do? What could I do?

"Avi..."

I placed my hand on the wall, crunching my other into a fist at my side. I couldn't think of any way out of this. None. I was beat.

"Avi!" Torin pushed my arm irritatedly, his whisper an aggressive hiss in the dark. "Get a hold of yourself! And more importantly..." he turned his head and I followed his gaze to the two figures, standing at the edge of the building we were hiding behind. They were staring right at me.

They walked forward, their cloaks flowing behind them and shrouding their faces, as Torin backed away, and I felt a small pang of betrayal even though he really didn't have any reason to be loyal to me. Then it struck me as I looked back at the people approaching me that the girl seemed familiar from earlier that day. Why had she taken down the collector only to come and stop my rescue?

The two figures stopped a few feet away, then the shorter one took off his hood and I grimaced. It was Kit. The rat, apparently. I thought the threat had been strong enough.

The girl next to Kit then came forward and grabbed my arm. Forcefully. I tried to yank away, but she had an iron grip, then she tugged me after her and Kit as they went back toward the edge of the building again. I struggled, but again, grip of iron. They dragged me past the edge of the building and out of the sight of the rest of the group and stopped, pulling me to a stop as well.

"Not that I know her," the girl said and dread piled in my gut at the sound of her voice, "but it looked like you scared that Romia lady half to death when she figured out you were gone."

"Master Steph, too," Kit added unnecessarily.

Then the girl took off her hood and I sucked in a breath. Yes... she wasn't a she after all, as I had suspected. A short, irritated male stood in a brown cloak in front of me. His skin was the color of cocoa, he had short black hair that curled around his ears comfortably, and I assumed it was southern tribal origins that explained the short streak of white paint from his bottom lip down to the end of his chin and the worn red scarf he had tied around his forehead. He... was not a girl at all.

"So?" He said. "Got anything to say for yourself?"

"Who are you?"

His eyebrow twitched and he sighed, planting a hand on his hip. "You speak as though you've done nothing wrong..." He looked down at Kit, then up at me with a grimace. "I am Pasha. And you, Itoma, are a filthy traitor."

This time it was my turn to be offended. But instead of sharp words, I scuffed my foot in the sand. As much as I hated to admit it, he wasn't wrong. I was a traitor. I just... had good intentions.

"So what, are we just gonna stand here?" Kit brought up his hands expectantly, obviously hoping for more of a commotion or a struggle from me and I scoffed just thinking of his stupid little plan.

He had a point, though. We couldn't just stand here dawdling forever, so I stuck both my hands in front of me, crossed in preparation to be bound. If these two came by command of Master Romia then she would know about this whether I put up a fight or not, so I decided to save myself the immeasurable pain she could deal and just get it over with. A good decision, I thought.
    
Kit just stared at my hands for a second, then up at me with a glint in his eye. He was pretty ticked.
    
Pasha looked at me, too. He didn't have the same look at Kit, though. No, it looked like he was unenthusiastically commending me for some joke I made. The problem was I hadn't made any jokes.
    
"Follow me," he said, turning on his heel and starting back toward the group.
    
If I had wanted to, I could have just run for it then—and I definitely felt the urge—but I stayed. Instead of leaving, I followed him back to my cabin-mates, who were now very panicked, and I sighed, finding myself unable to blame them. I wouldn't have trusted me, either.

"Okay, everyone," Pasha said calmly, his face like cold stone against the torchlight, "from here on out, the plan is gonna be a little different."

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